A Kiss Goodnight, My Love
by AngelsCondom
Summary: After the final battle, death is everywhere on the battlefield. Dean's desperation to find Sammy and Cas is for more than one reason though- he never told Cas how he felt about him, and now, he is afraid it will all be too little, too late. And yet he searches still. Inspired by a Tumblr post by Good-Angel-Bad-Wolf.


_AN: This is a quick oneshot I wrote in response to a Tumblr post that broke my heart:_

_What if it isn't until Cas is killed, his body limp and scorched wing marks everywhere, that Dean finally leans in and gives him a goodbye kiss?_

_Here's what came of it. Let me know what you think. Inspired by Good-Angel-Bad-Wolf on Tumblr. _

The field around them was bloody- the earth soaked with the dying moans straggling out from the few people left alive. No one knew who had won- everyone on the field was either dead or dying. It didn't matter who had won. There would be no one left to care soon.

On one side of the field- it was mostly divided into two- there was mostly angels. The ground was scorched black with the sheer number of wings burned into the soil, the grass dead from the power of the leaking grace slowly dissipating on the field. The final battle was over. Both sides had lost.

On the other side, the grass was still mostly green. The hunters and brave souls who had fought beside them lay sprawled on the ground, bloody and, for the most part, out of their misery. Whether they had gone to heaven or hell, Dean didn't know. All he knew was that there weren't many of them left now- and that Dean himself wouldn't be likely to last much longer.

The spear lodged in his side seemed to sink deeper, more firmly into him, with every breath he took. His chest heaved with the effort of each inhalation, and more than ever he wanted to simply lie down and let himself drift to wherever was next on his highway to hell. But he couldn't- not yet. He needed to see Sammy first, see if he was gone yet, and he needed to… he needed to find Castiel.

Taking a firm hold on the spear, he used a faceless hunter's knife to saw off the shaft and hold the head in his side. It was still painful to move, but he could bear it. For a short while, he could bear it. He stumbled to his feet, his legs barely holding him up, but sheer desperation to find his family overriding his pain. He had to find them, it wasn't a choice. It was a need so deeply ingrained into his soul he had no choice but to stumble blindly through the dead, or worse, dying, bodies in a desperate search.

When he stooped next to a body, praying to whatever angels were left that it was and that it wasn't Sammy in the same sentence, he didn't notice the blood sliding over his fingers from his side as he knelt and turned their head. But it wasn't Sammy. Neither was the next, or the next.

Dean swore when he turned over Bobby, his old friend, almost a father, lying in the whispering grass with a blank stare in his eye, his throat slit so deeply Dean could see the bone of his spine through the gash. The tears began, sliding down his cheeks silently as he sobbed, but he did not linger. He had little enough time as it was- he had to find Sammy and Cas.

He couldn't tell if it was his screams or the screams from the others that he heard faintly, his ears still ringing. Bobby… dead. One foot in front of the other. One gasping breath, then the next. One body, then another, then another. Dean lost track of whether who he had seen, but for the fact that they weren't Sam or Cas.

Jo… Ellen… Kevin… Ash… All of them encountered Dean's hand on their shoulder at one point or another, all of them lifeless and rapidly cooling as after noon turned into evening. Dean turned over another body to find Rufus staring back at him, crying out in pain as Dean moved him.

Dean set aside his tears, but he soon realized Rufus was past saving. The man was half-crazed, a knife sticking out just below his heart. He begged Dean to kill him. Dean obliged, using the knife to slit open his throat. It was the fastest way. He dropped his lifeless form to the ground gently and continued his search.

It wasn't long later that he found Sammy. He was lying in a puddle of blood, his skull half caved in. Dean rushed to his side.

"Dean…"Sammy looked up at him and reached for his face, breathing heavily, touching his cheek with a blood covered hand. "I love you. Goodnight, Dean."

The hand on his cheek fell slowly back to Sam's chest, resting on his half-uncovered tattoo over his heart.

Sammy didn't move again.

Dean sat there for a moment, screaming obscenities at whoever would listen. If there was anyone left to listen. He cupped Sam's cheek in his hand, closed his eyes, twisted his hands in his shirt, and emptied his soul over Sammy, screaming bloody murder on those who had done this.

When he regained what little sense he had left, Dean stumbled blindly past bodies, searching, needing to find Castiel. Finally, he found him, lying prone on his back, his eyes fading as black wings unfurled on the ground beneath him. He was dying too- almost gone, the last of his grace slowly dissipating into the earth beneath him.

When Dean kneeled at his side, Cas looked up, using what little angelic strength he had left to keep going.

"Hello Dean." He choked out, blood dribbling down his chin as he spoke.

He had no injuries that Dean could see that were serious- he was bloody and battered, but the damage was internal. His angel was dying. He was afraid this time it was going to be just as permanent as it was for the others.

"Cas… I have to tell you something." Dean kept his eyes on Cas's sky blue ones, which were bright and alert even as the dark wings continued to grow beneath him. "I love-"

"I know, Dean. I have known for a long time." The blood still dripped out, slowly running down Cas's jaw. Cas reached up to trace the bloody mark Sam had made. "I adore you as well."

With that, the light quickly began to drain from his eyes, the wings rapidly growing now. Dean leaned down in a fit of desperation to convey everything he felt, pressing his lips to Cas's, tasting his blood as they kissed for a moment before Cas's jaw went slack. He was gone.

Dean remained there, kneeling by his angel's side, trying to keep the moment with him for minutes before finally releasing Cas and glancing upwards. Only then did Dean realize why Cas had faded so fast.

The wound in Dean's side was gone. The blood remained, but the spearhead was nowhere to be found, and Dean's body felt like it had slept for hours. He was healed. And alone. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, the knife at his throat wouldn't cut him, the bullet to his temple never pierced the skin. Castiel had given him both a gift and a curse. He was alive. But he was alone. Forever.

The final battle was over. All sides had lost.

_AN: Well, I hope it didn't scar you too much. Let me know how you liked it with a comment!_


End file.
